


Heart In The Water

by 0foxgiven



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, M/M, do not copy to another site, merfolk, merman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 13:09:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19946689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0foxgiven/pseuds/0foxgiven
Summary: Unknown to John, he had been saved by a... by a... unbelievably yes...by a merman





	Heart In The Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inchells](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Inchells).



> Inspired by Inchells Merman Sherlock drawing. It spoke to me. This drawing https://inchells.tumblr.com/post/79939089303/livestream-wasnt-terribly-long-but-heres-the
> 
> PS it's my first fic so.....seriously a work in progress.

"I've got you! I've got you! Stop...STOP! AAaaaggggg. FUCK! STOP! sSsggghaaa"  
  
What was happening was exactly what you would expect to be happening when you were in John Watson's good company. John was spendong part of his beautiful afternoon rescuing a drowning, hysterically flailing man.   
  
The man was in full-on panic for his life, grabbing, tearing, choking, trying to climb on John's shoulders, pushing him under. John knew clinically of the hysteria and the panic, but the elbow to his eye, another to his throat, the tearing and the gouging still caught him off guard. As he went under again John thought, "Fuck! Watson get a literal grip!!"  
  
Until a few moments ago, John had been enjoying a rented surfboard, the waves, the clear water and the ever present sunshine of the Mediterranean at Peninsula del Sinis. It was the almost secret surfer's haven on Sardinia. On a week of leave from his third tour in Afghanistan, he had quite enjoyed, to this point, the water, the waves and the variety of the Italian beauties on Sardinia. To be sure, there are not as many newbie surfers here, but there are just enough of them to make a person be a little extra wary when paddling out or dropping in. John had spotted this Barney first thing. He had no skill, was snaking waves, or bailing on good ones, and being a general nuisance. Barneys, or rookies, are always a worry, often out of their league, and getting into trouble, because they don't know how to handle surprises like physical cramps, overheating, or even fainting from dehydration or heat exhaustion while sitting in water. And right now, of course, one of them is drowning from one of those problems. John looked down at the man and saw bright heavy red blood dripping onto the failing form. Fuck!   
  
"I've got you."  
  
Out of the corner of his eye John saw the shark fin.  
He could do nothing about it, instead focusing on the drowning man, and trying not to let the man drown him too in his panic. Still trying to calm the man, and now himself, he thought how stupid and unceremonious to either be fucking drowned and/or be eaten by a bloody, fucking shark. He grit his teeth and slapped the drowning man hard across his face. There was an immediate lessening of the grabbing, choking and flailing.   
  
"I've got you," John growled.  
  
Trying to maintain his hold on the squirming armfull, John looked around them. The shark fin was gone. So far, so good as nothing touched his legs or the desperate man in his grasp. Suddenly, John felt something along his back and hips. Shit! A sharp nip made him yelp.  
  
His brain kicked into overdrive at the nip.  
*Sharks take nibbles. Sharks take nibbles. This drowning idiot is going to get a chunk of me bit out by a fucking shark. Fuuuck meee.*  
  
Focus.  
  
Focus John on what you are doing and not on what is out of your control.   
  
"You're OK." John murmured more to himself now. "You're going to be OK."  
  
The one fin was gone, but John had to assume at least one shark was still circling ready to strike. The other surfers were yelling shark, so he wasn't imagining it.   
John shuddered a little, redoubling his efforts, desperate to end the screaming chaos and frothing water the drowning man was creating.   
  
The only thing John could almost control was in his arms. He couldn't worry about over there, as right now the panicked man had stopped choking him, stopped tearing at his shoulders, his head and was finally relaxing to his calming voice. It was a good thing, as John had been seconds from seriously punching the man unconscious to save them both.   
  
"I've got you. You're ok. I've got you"  
  
Other surfers had moved in to position to try to help. Calls of concern and help mixed in Italian, Spanish and that charming Aussie accent. John gladly let the reaching hands grab on to them both pulling them onto boards to wait for the rescue jet ski. He looked at the man who was visibly breathing on a board nearby. Good. No need to try CPR on a floating surfboard. John swallowed mouthfuls of blood to keep from putting more blood in the water. Moments later the jet ski throttled into their midst, with surfers making way and directing in Italian and English. John lay still and waited for the jet ski to come to him.  
  
John did not feel the effort of it all until he had pulled himself along side the casualty onto the rescue sled on the back of the jet ski. He touched his face discovering a bloodied, but unbroken nose, a gash next to his swelling right eye and a busted lip, definitely bruised ribs and a tetchy right clavicle. He felt scratches along his shoulders, arms, neck, chest and back. Christ he felt wrung out.  
  
Onshore rescue personnel were standing by to help them, an ambulance could be heard in the near distance. Oxygen for both of them, gauze bandage wraps for John. The lifeguard looking at John was an Aussie John had surfed and spent time with with earlier in the week. He walked John through an assessment of his injuries. And then.  
  
"Oi mate. That bloke bite your back?"  
  
John shook his head. He felt pain there, but was sure the man never went behind him.   
  
"Looks like he tried to take a bite out your left shoulder mate. Definitely a human looking bite mark."  
  
"What?" John blinked, obviously his exhaustion was making him hear wrong.  
Human? Not shark??  
  
John said, "I thought a shark took a taste." He tried to look over his shoulder, but now that all of the adrenaline had faded, everything hurt too much to move around.   
  
The surfer shook his head, "No way mate. They're bigger and nastier. This sure looks like human to me. Let's get you off to hospital. Up you go."   
  
John slowly climbed in to the ambulance. His confused visage disappeared behind the closing ambulance door.  
  
In the ambulance while trying to communicate with the crew, John catalogued his own injuries again. That is when he realized he had lost his dog tags. He would need to contact his unit commander to let them know along with the circumstances. He could try to go diving for them tomorrow, but he only had the morning and that had been planned for travel to the airport. He knew the surf had probably chewed up the area already. He also knew he was in no shape to try to dive for them today, even if he did get out of hospital before dark. His tags could be out in the middle of the Mediterranean by morning. John spent the rest of the ride to hospital focusing on beating back nausea from the blood he swallowed.   
  
  
VxVxVxVx  
  
  
Sherlock had become quite familiar with human speech, habits, movements, and their writings after spending hundreds of nights floating next to luxury yachts that sit low in the water. He had even ventured aboard some of these small ships. He would wait until deepest night and sit on the floating deck, looking at the sky for the few moments it took for his body to change. Once inboard, he drank in everything, touched everything. He easily memorized all he saw on papers, in books, on the image devices, and the nautical maps.   
  
In his life, Sherlock had ventured to seas, oceans and rivers around the world. He knew a dozen human languages from self study, but had practically no vocal experience beyond imitating vocalizations to himself while floating alone watching sunrises and sunsets. Sherlock always took a memento from every encounter with humans. Years ago, a set of children's books proved the most useful and enjoyable gift he ever gave himself. Today he took the metal tags that had been torn from one the human's throat.  
  
Thus, his desire to study these landwalkers brought him into the traumatic orbit of a drowning man, and the man trying to save him.   
  
Sherlock felt and heard the commotion well before seeing it. Coming upon it, he saw the struggle one human was having with the other. At first, because he did not see the beginning, he thought they were fighting. One was causing the other to bleed from scratches and punches. Blood meant danger in any body of water, particularly danger in seas and oceans where there are sharks. Sherlock moved into the current and waited. He did not need to wait long.   
  
Merfolk cannot talk to sea creatures, but they can understand their behaviors, and in understanding, anticipate them. Sherlock was well versed in the habits and responses of many species of predators, in particular sharks. He had prepared several treatises on their behaviors. Some actually well-received. Sherlock was especially intrigued by the tasting habit sharks employed to test whether they wanted more of a thing they were curious about. 


End file.
